Singing Death Or Glory
by NRC
Summary: Grindelwald after Ariana's death. One-shot, PART FIC CHALLENGE.


**AN: _All recognisable characters belong to J.K. Rowling._**

* * *

"Grindelwald. And at last, my brother had an _equal_ to talk to, someone just as bright and talented as _he_ was. And looking after Ariana took a back seat then, while they were hatching all their plans for a new wizarding order, and looking for _Hallows_, and whatever else it was they were so interested in. Grand plans for the benefit of all wizardkind, and if one young girl got neglected, what did that matter, when [they were] working for the _greater good_?"

- Aberforth Dumbledore

* * *

...

_Oh, take these storms away_

_Start a brand new story. _

...

He brushed his wavy blond hair out of his face as he huffed a little. The trek up the hill was longer and harder than he thought.

Or maybe it was because he was weary, tired to the bone. Especially by the fact that he was now alone.

He didn't particularly mind being friendless. He was just used to having Albus behind him, picking up the bits he forgot, cleaning up after his mess. He was used to having someone who respected his ideas, who helped him, who idolised him.

Well, soon, he'd have the entire world at his feet; the entire world to idolise him. He didn't _need_ Albus.

A small sigh escaped his lips as he reached the peak of the hill. The sigh was both relief and a smidge of sadness. There, standing precariously on the hill, was the building he'd been looking for.

He glanced at the unlit, shabby shack nestled in front of it. He could do this. He had perfected his plan. Break in, steal the Wand, jump out. Simple. What could possibly go wrong?

He stealthily moved forwards, keeping his eyes trained on the hut. His steps led him to a window on the side of the workshop, where he could see the hut if there was any sign of light. He whipped out the wand he had stolen from an unknown wizard, and whispered _Alohamora._

To his pleasant surprise, the window clicked open. He sniggered to himself. Was Gregorovitch a fool, that he didn't think to properly enchant his workshop? The man was insane! He had gone around, claiming he had the Elder Wand, and yet his workshop was unguarded; Gellert could hardly believe he was the first to attempt this.

He noiselessly opened the window, his eyes peeled for any sign of light from the hut. He pushed himself through the window, thankful that he had lost some weight while travelling.

His eyes took in the room. On the left was the main entry for the workshop, the door directly in front of the hut. On his right was a desk, with parchment and quills scattered on it. Everywhere else were shelves upon shelves of wands.

He tiptoed towards the shelf on his immediate left. He searched for tabs, labels, any sort of writing that indicated what wands were here. Gratefully, he spied a minuscule signature at the top of the shelf. He squinted his eyes to read it, thankful that the moon was shining tonight.

_Asche_.

Well, he'd be damned. He had conveniently forgotten Gregorovitch was German. Gellert was Hungarian-born, so the languages he had studied included English and Latin, but he hadn't bothered with German, thinking once he possessed the Elder Wand and made his army, his reign of terror would start in Britain.

He knew Albus had taken German...

He shook himself, pulling himself out of his reverie. He didn't need to remember Albus took German. He could do this by himself, thank you very much.

Obviously, _Asche_ was German for ash; that much, he _could_ do. He hoped beyond hope that the shelves were in alphabetical order. He thanked his lucky stars when he found _Birke_ a shelf or two down. He walked a few more steps.

_Eberesche_. _Eiche._

He found _Elfenbein_, then backtracked a shelf. He pulled out a random boxed wand, and smacked himself in the forehead for his stupidity. The boxes had the wood name on top, as well.

His brow furrowed as he read _Eiche_ written on it. He pushed it back, and bent down, pulling out another box. _Eiche_.

He pulled out several more, but they all had the same wood. He moved to the top of the _Elfenbein_ shelf, and retrieved a wand box. After not finding what he was seeking, he looked some more.

He hissed in frustration. All _Elfenbein_.

He pulled a box off the next shelf, and read _Erle_. He stopped himself with difficulty from throwing it to the ground in his anger. How on earth was he supposed to find the Elder Wand in a German workshop?

He hurried over to the desk, hoping that there would be some clue on the scattered pieces of parchment. As he shuffled through, he tried to ignore the fact that Gregorovitch took notes like Albus; even their handwriting was similar.

Grunting softly, Gellert forcefully pushed Albus out of his mind. He didn't need him. Not now, not ever. He could do this himself.

As he turned over another sheaf of parchment, his eyes widened. The parchment at the very bottom of the entire stack was covered in black ink; writing so cramped, as if Gregorovitch had been using his last piece of parchment. One word was written as its header.

_Elderstab_.

Grinning in exultation, Gellert pulled it out. He noticed one particular word was repeated, beside words he could figure out for himself, such as _Einhorn, Phoenix_. He realized the notes were on Gregorovitch's experiments with duplicating the Elder Wand.

The one word that stayed consistent through the experiments was _Holunder_.

Gellert was not a praying man, but in that moment, he prayed to whoever god was listening to him right now that _Holunder_ meant Elder.

He retraced his steps to the shelf, and searched for _Holunder_.

_Hagedorn, Hasel_...

His heart beating faster, he stopped when he reached the _Holunder_ shelf. He pulled out the first box, and read _Holunder 633_. He wondered what the number was for, then decided to check the consistency of the numbers.

He pulled out another box lower down, and read _Holunder 249_. His heart hammering still, he pulled out the left-most wand box at the bottom of the entire stack.

He had to restrain himself from whooping out loud as he read _Elderstab_.

He had done it. He had found the Elder Wand, _without_ Albus' help. He knew he could do it; would do it. He didn't _need_ Albus in his life.

He flew to the window just as he noticed light flaring on in the hut. Still not making a sound, he jumped out, and ran down the hill, noticing in his peripheral vision an old man with white hair and a scruffy beard hurrying out of the hut.

He Disapparated at the foot of the hill, and reappeared in the Godric's Hollow cemetery. He knew why he had Apparated here accidentally. He knew why he was drawn to this place. He knew why this was the first place he thought of when he was escaping.

His heart was here. With Albus.

He wanted nothing more than to go to his house—he knew exactly where it was, he knew the little hole in the hedge he could sneak in—and gloat to his friend about how he had snatched the Elder Wand himself.

He wanted to, but he didn't. He was alone now. Albus had chosen his family over him.

Sighing, Gellert Grindelwald Apparated out of the cemetery.

...

_I'll make it through each day_

_Singing death or glory._

_Lord won't answer me_

_I won't let it bring me down. _

...

.

.

.

* * *

**AN:**

Written for thethymeisright's challenge on the Gringott's thread.

Hope you likey, Lucy =]

_Asche_ - Ash_  
__Birke _- Birch_  
__Eberesche_ - Rowan_  
__Eiche_ - Oak_  
__Elfenbein_ - Ivory_  
__Erle_ - Alder_  
__Hagedorn_ - Hawthorn_  
Hasel_ - Hazel_  
Holunder_ - Elder  
_Elderstab_ - Elder Wand

Where We Belong by Lostprophets

**Review your thoughts and opinions.  
**


End file.
